


Pants Snatchers

by bendleshnitz1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendleshnitz1/pseuds/bendleshnitz1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was this really happening? Could this woman be changing the worst night of his life into the best sex anecdote in the whole Wizarding world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pants Snatchers

**Pants Snatchers**

Paper! How could he have been so stupid? Fred _always_ chose scissors after rock. This was not the first time they had decided things by playing rock-paper-scissors. George had studied Fred's technique for years now, but it was useless now. He'd been too stupid to choose paper right after their tie with rock. He felt like kicking himself, although he was well aware that wouldn't change things.

He felt like a Death Eater, lurking in the dark streets of Hogsmeade, spying into Zonko's and trying to discover the new secret product that an anonymous informant had warned them about. If that old man had indeed stolen their latest idea, George and Fred would make sure it'd be the last time.

Turning around the corner with his nose pressed against the foggy window pane, George stumbled over a rock, falling flat on his bum. The pain was easily ignored as his biggest concern was the soft _crack_ that reached his ears. His hand tapped his back pocket tentatively.

"Bugger," he murmured, retrieving his broken wand from the pocket of his trousers.

He huffed and stood up on his feet. He better call it a night and make Fred pay for his new wand. This was, after all, his fault...

However, before he noticed, two laughing boys ran by his side, shooting a spell in his direction. Trying to cover himself, George fell back to the ground, feeling the chilling breeze of the night against his legs.

"What the...? HEY! Come back!" George screamed at the boys he could no longer see or hear. "Pants snatchers?" he wondered aloud, trying to cover his naked bottom.

How could someone steal someone's pants in the middle of street? It made absolutely no sense! He wouldn't believe anyone who told him that, but he had just been their victim, and there was nothing else to do but try to find some kind of cover. George couldn't believe his luck. If this wasn't the worst night of his life, it was definitely in the top three.

Shivering as the cool breeze hit his legs, he saw a piece of paper stuck under the door of the Three Broomsticks. Thankful that the pub had already closed, he skipped across the street and grabbed the front page of the Daily Prophet, trying his best to cover himself with it.

Just as his struggle with the newspaper resulted in a securely tied kilt around his waist, the door of the Three Broomsticks opened. Madam Rosmerta stared at him wide-eyed with wand in hand. George froze, not able to help his eyes travelling down her accentuated cleavage. That night gown, just like all of her dresses, flattered her figure, highlighting her voluptuous breasts.

"Nice outfit," Madam Rosmerta muttered, biting her lip in order to avoid laughing at George's face.

The situation was so bizarre that George was lost for words for the first time in his life.

"Is that what you kids wear these days? I'm not saying I'm old-because I'm not-but I was never one to follow the crazy fashion trends. Now I can see why," she continued as her eyes travelled over George's improvised skirt and his skinny legs.

"Can... can you help me?" George whispered, now staring at her shoes in embarrassment.

She chuckled and opened the door wider. George silently stepped into the dimly lit pub, begging Merlin that Madam Rosmerta would let him floo home without any questions.

"So," she said, closing the door and walking to his side, swaying her hips in that feminine way that drove every male client crazy. "Victim of Pants snatchers?"

"How did you-?"

Madam Rosmerta chuckled again, looking at him knowingly. "Lay down on the couch, boy. Let Madam Rosmerta take care of you."

"N-No. It's alright. If you allow me, I'll just Floo home and-"

"None of that!" Madam Rosmerta pushed him backwards. George heard the _Daily Prophet_ break as his naked bum made contact with one of the couches of the pub. "You disturbed my beauty sleep and there must be consequences."

George swallowed hard. "C-consequences?"

She nodded. "You're a nice looking lad and... of age, I assume?"

George nodded nervously. "Eighteen."

Madam Rosmerta smiled mischievously. "So you got your way in. Now, you have to win your way out," she said, kneeling in front of him.

Her manicured nails played with the red hair of his legs, travelling upwards and making George shiver. When her long fingers pushed their way under the ends of the Daily Prophet's front page to caress his thighs, George groaned, making his best to hide the growing erection against the paper.

"Oh, Merlin's saggy balls!" he moaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the couch as Madam Rosmerta's skilful hands started touching his cock.

"These are not saggy at all," she whispered, massaging his balls and pressing her prominent breasts against his knees.

Was this really happening? Could this woman be changing the worst night of his life into the best sex anecdote in the whole Wizarding world?

He gasped and twitched against the couch, lifting his hips to meet Madam Rosmerta's mouth. Her teeth were teasing his throbbing cock over the Daily Prophet, making the friction of the rough paper and the sensitive skin pure bliss.

"Please," he begged as Madam Rosmerta kept teasing him with her hands and teeth.

"You don't get to ask for anything. Remember you're winning your way out," she said firmly before both of her hands ripped the paper in half and her mouth engulfed his cock, sucking desperately as her tongue swirled in all the right places, making the perfect pressure against the tip every now and then.

"Holy Mother of -!" George screamed as he came inside Madam Rosmerta's mouth.

Swallowing all his come, she stood up, cleaned the corners of her mouth and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Turn off the lights before you go," she instructed, heading back upstairs and not looking back.


End file.
